


Alex and Rupert

by flufshepherd



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s01e01 Welcome to the Hellmouth, First Kiss, First Meetings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, seasons 1-3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-02-26 23:40:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18727222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flufshepherd/pseuds/flufshepherd
Summary: A week before sophomore year, Xander meets a handsome stranger in the Sunnydale Airport.





	1. A Two-Gate Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Xander is underage in parts of the story, but Nicholas Brendon was 25 when he was playing a 16 year-old, so it's safe to assume that if Giles met him outside of school, he'd understandably assume Xander was in his 20s. But if the idea of a pre-series Xander being sexualized makes you uncomfortable, I would skip this story.
> 
> Unbeta'ed, so apologies for any typos and grammar slip-ups.

Sunnydale's airport was a simple, 2-gate affair that appeared to have been designed in the 1950s and forgotten shortly thereafter. Certainly, it did itself no favors with its lime green, egg-shaped seats, the red-and-yellow tiled floor, or the the elaborate, modern light fixtures hanging ominously from the ceiling. But it wasn't all bad, because just beyond ticketing was the Sunny Diner: a traditional, jukebox joint with some of the best french fries known to the planet. 

Xander petulantly stabbed such a fry into his little puddle of ketchup and checked the screen on the wall for the hundredth time.

Flight 1018 - DELAY.

Uncle Rory's flight, which should have landed two hours ago, still hadn't left its gate back in Los Angeles. Something to do with the minor hurricane that currently threatened to tear apart this rickety little airport. The hurricane that meant that, even if flight were officially canceled, like it should have been three-orders-of-fries ago, Xander still wouldn't have been able to leave.

Which was fine, anyway. He had nowhere in particular he wanted to go. 

It was a Wednesday night, which didn't mean a whole lot to a high school student in the summer. The Bronze would probably have something going on, but Xander wasn't big into the company of his peers right now. Not since everyone in his year had gotten bit by the lust bug like it was the hottest new fashion. And, like always, Xander was well behind the current fashion. 

It was all anyone could talk about these days. Guys drooling over the girls' rapidly growing... assets. Girls giggling about how their boyfriends were all growing into their facial hair and muscles. 

Even Jesse and Willow had fallen victim to this strange summer _heat_. If Xander had to hear one more word from Jesse about Cordelia's dresses and how they showed off her legs, he was liable to cut off his own legs and use them to beat Jesse to death. And Willow... Well, Willow's innocent crush on Xander seemed to have gone through puberty, and he was finding it harder and harder to ignore the glances she kept sending his way.

He knew what he was supposed to do. What every teenaged boy was supposed to do. Destroy the friendship, take advantage of the crush, lose that pesky virginity, and be heralded as the King of Men among his peers.

But Xander was not destined to be King of Men. He liked the idea of losing his virginity—hell, who wouldn't—but the idea of using Willow like that made him sick to his stomach.

Honestly, none of the girls in his year were really doing it much for him. They could be pretty enough, sure, but whenever Xander had tried to make the effort, the connection was never there. And how many ways was he messed up if he was more interested in connecting with someone in an emotional sense before a more... _genital_ sense? 

Messed up or not, it was almost nice tonight, howling storm and cheesy decor aside, to spend the evening by himself like this. Alone, in the airport diner, miles away from teenager drama. Where he could pretend he was anyone else, going anywhere else. 

"What can I get you, hon?"

Xander turned to his left, surprised to see that he wasn't as alone as he had thought.

Wendy, the waitress who'd been treating Xander with nothing but contempt since he'd arrived, was suddenly preening over Xander's new counter companion. An older guy. Handsome, if you liked the chiseled, strong jaw types. When he spoke, it was with an English accent that seemed completely out of place here.

"I don't suppose it'd be within the realm of possibility that you might have a decent cup of tea?"

She giggled flirtatiously and Xander rolled his eyes.  

"Sorry, sweetie. We have coffee?"

"I suppose I'll have to settle. Thank you." She went to grab his coffee and a menu, and Xander surreptitiously looked at the man's suitcase. His shirt was wrinkled and the top two buttons were undone. Based on the slight stubble and accent, Xander would put him at the tail-end of a long, international journey.

"If you're waiting for a connecting flight, you might be grounded for a while," Xander said, nodding at the torrential downpour outside.

The man looked at him, clearly surprised that Xander was speaking to him. Why _was_ he talking to him anyway? This wasn't the school cafeteria; this was the real world, where adults ate alone, in quiet. Xander gave a quick apologetic smile and refocused his attention to drowning his fries in ketchup.

"I'm, uh, waiting for my ride, actually," said English. "There was supposed to be somebody here for me when I arrived."

Xander glanced up to see him sliding over one seat. Not to the seat directly next to Xander, but a little closer. Reasonable conversation distance.

"Well, I got the reason wrong, but the conclusion's the same. You're going to be waiting a long time, anyway. The road's flooded."

English crumpled at that. "Oh, bugger. This day truly will never end."

"Must be a long trip, huh? From England?"

"Quite, yes." Wendy dropped off the coffee and English hardly waited before lifting it up to his lips, not seeming to mind the heat or the steam that fogged his glasses as he took a quick, generous gulp. "I believe when I awoke this morning it was four days ago."

Xander smiled sympathetically. "Layovers?" 

"Several. I've been unexpectedly, um, relocated, for work. Between the, the packing and last-minute trip planning, I must have been in transit for the last 60 hours." As if to punctuate his point, he let out a yawn, stifling it politely with the back of his hand. He was clearly exhausted, which in adults typically meant _go away, Xander._ But English just gave a small apologetic smile for his yawn, and it almost seemed like he didn't mind chatting with Xander.  

"So. An English guy, traveling unexpectedly for work. Vague air of mystery and dashing good looks. If I ask your name will it be spelled with two 0's and a 7?"

"Actually, my cousin is the spy," English said with a sparkle in his eyes. "I'm just the international vampire hunter."

Xander chuckled. "Well, Mr. Helsing, welcome to Sunnydale. Present gloom and doom withstanding, we may not have many by way of vampires. But we are a pleasant town, and I hope you find us to your liking."

The stranger smiled, like he may have already found something to his liking. Xander felt himself turning red, though he couldn't have said why.

"Well, if there's one thing the British can do, it's wait out the weather. And drink. What are you having?" He nodded to Xander's empty glass. It took a second for Xander to realize he was talking about booze; that he thought Xander was old enough to be drinking alone at an airport.

It occurred to Xander that he should tell the truth. That he was sixteen and drinking soda. Then English would apologize, kindly, for mistaking Xander for an adult; maybe he'd even take pity and buy Xander a milkshake before sliding back to his original seat.

But, for some reason, Xander really didn't want this man to think of him as a kid. He wanted to be the grown-up that said something like "Jameson on the rocks," and they'd knock a few back, like two adult, manly men.

And maybe he would keep looking at Xander with that little smile.

He knew he had to tell the truth. And he was about to, really, but he must have taken too long, because English was leaning away and starting to stammer. "Oh, I didn't mean anything untoward if, if, you're not. That is, if you don't—"

Before he even knew what he was doing, Xander interrupted him. "Jameson. On the rocks."

English smiled at him, and Xander felt guilty. He knew it was wrong to lie, but how could it be wrong to make this guy look at him like _that_?

"Right," English said, and asked Wendy for two. She looked at Xander, then back at English, and for a second, Xander was petrified that she was going to ask for ID. And as soon as it began, Xander would go from Cool Airport Man to Geeky Airport Kid. But, Wendy didn't ask him for his ID. She just shook her head disappointingly, like she was hoping the sexy English guy was going to buy _her_ a drink, and Xander allowed himself a little victorious smirk.

And, okay, maybe at some point, Xander had traveled into the Twilight Zone, because not only was he lying about his age to drink _whiskey_ —which he was pretty sure he hated—but he was also thinking about a _man_ as _sexy_. 

"I don't usually let strange men buy me drinks," Xander said, as if that little droplet of truth would make any of this any less weird.

"Well, I suppose we oughtn't be strangers, then." He extended his hand, still wearing that smile, which Xander was going to have to admit was at least a little flirty. "My name is Rupert Giles."

Oh, hell. Maybe for one night, he _did_ let strange men buy him drinks. Maybe for one night, he was the kind of guy who gets Jameson, who thinks of men as sexy, who flirts back with these sexy men. Maybe for one night, for Mr. Rupert Giles, he would be that guy. "Alex," he said, shaking Rupert's hand, and maybe letting it linger.

Because 'Xander' might have been a 16 year old who drinks a consolatory milkshake by himself, but 'Alex' would be the man drinking whiskey with Rupert Giles.

"So, Rupert. Is this your first time in California?"

...

Sunnydale's airport was a simple, 2-gate affair, but in the hour and a half after they'd finished their drinks, Xander had transformed it into the entire Pacific coast.

In the gift shop, Xander showed Rupert half of LA's landmarks. At Starbucks, Xander introduced him to Seattle's cafe culture. From the windows at Gate A, Xander pointed out the distant trees, which were the famous California redwoods. At the newsstand, Xander donned a pair of $2 sunglasses and introduced him to Arnold Schwarzenegger.

It was all just a little ridiculous, but Xander was having fun and, to his amazement, it seemed like Rupert was, too.

Rupert, Xander learned, loved books, spoke multiple languages, and had more degrees than it took to boil water. He must have had some strange addiction to knowing things, because for some reason he seemed more interested in learning about Xander/Alex than discussing himself.

Xander told Rupert that he was a student, which was technically true. He just let Rupert believe he was in college or grad school, or whatever. When Rupert asked what he was studying, Xander shrugged and said "a bit of everything," which was also not exactly a lie. Though he couldn't help but imagine Willow's guilty glare if she ever heard him imply that he "studied."

It didn't feel great, lying to Rupert like that. So, Xander redirected the conversation, whenever it veered too close to anything that could reveal his age. Instead, they talked about his family, his friends, his interests. And, despite the fact that Rupert had never watched _Battlestar_ and that Xander had never heard of Syd Barrett, their easy conversation never faltered.

And neither did the flirting. And that was very, very good.

Rupert effortlessly switched between confident-sexy and shy-stammering. Sometimes it seemed like he was just as caught off guard by Xander's interest as Xander was in Rupert's. Whenever Xander laughed at something witty and sarcastic that came out of Rupert's mouth, he got this look, like he was momentarily surprised, and then his eyes came over all mischievous and sexy.

For the first time in his life, Xander found himself really, really wanting to kiss a guy.

It was insane, but he was ninety percent sure that Rupert wanted to kiss him, too.

The only reason Xander hadn't tried it yet was that he was completely, bone-deep, terrified. The flirting was one thing, but if Xander kissed Rupert, what would happen next? Rupert wasn't a high school girl, and they weren't going to spend the next four months playing footsie and making out in their parents' basements. Rupert was an adult, gay man. What did adult gay men do together? How fast did they go? If Xander leaned in and pressed his lips against Rupert's, would Rupert bend him over the ticketing counter for a jolly roger?

And _that_ visual had Xander looking anywhere but the ticketing counter, pretty sure he was turning as bright as a beet.

"Where to next?" Rupert asked, as they finished their tour of Alcatraz (aka, the gated-shut Sunglasses Hut booth).

"I think I saw a mouse by the trash cans back there. I'm thinking Disney World?"

Rupert grimaced, good-naturedly. "I've heard the lines are intolerable. Besides, I've never been one for roller coasters."

"You sure? They may have one of those ring toss games where I could win you an excessively large stuffed bear."

He chuckled, an addictive sound, and casually slid his hand into Xander's. "I must admit, of all of the fantasy-based first dates I've ever been on, this is by far the most wholesome."

The laugh Xander let out might have been a little delirious, still thrown off by how open Rupert was being. It took a great deal of courage and a dose of horny to keep himself from nervously pulling his hand away. But, that didn't stop the babble. "I gotta say, none of this has been my typical first date move. Heck, I've taken you halfway across the country and back. You, my friend, are getting the Xa— the Alex Harris special. After this, I was thinking we'd split a milkshake with two straws before I take you to the drive-in."

Rupert gave Xander a look that could only be classified as 'coy.' "And what would we do at the drive-in?"

Xander's mind blanked at that, and he couldn't stop looking at Rupert's mouth. Why was it so far away? Why was it not facing Xander's? Didn't he realize that Xander needed him to...

"Alex, it's stopping."

"Huh?" Xander did his best imitation of a fish.

Rupert gestured to the window.

Oh, the rain. The rain was stopping.

The rain was stopping, which meant that soon they'd be able to leave the airport.

Xander wasn't sure if he could still be Alex outside of the airport.

There wasn't much he wanted more than to throw 'Xander' away and ask Rupert to come out with him tomorrow. For a real first date, with a movie and dinner and, yeah, maybe kissing in the back of his father's car. He could even visualize it for a minute until he remembered how small of a town Sunnydale was. What movie theater could he go to, what restaurant, without running into someone he knew?

And, oh God. What if he _ran into someone he knew_? Xander imagined Willow or Jesse seeing what he was doing right now. Or his parents...

No. Every Twilight Zone episode had to end, and whatever this moment of madness was, it was localized to the Sunnydale Airport. It was fun, it was crazy, but it was going to end. Just like the rain.

And Rupert was looking at Xander still. Looking at Alex. Looking at the Xander that Xander suddenly hated himself for not being.

"I guess it is, huh."

Before he could stop himself, Xander stepped forward and pressed his lips against Rupert's. At first he thought that somehow, some crazy somehow, he had misread everything, but then the world shifted and Rupert started to respond. He slid his hand around to cradle the back of Xander's head and opened his mouth and... And it was nothing like any of the few kisses Xander had ever had. This was the big leagues and Xander wanted to sign a life-time contract.

Rupert wasn't just a guy; he was a _man_. He was bigger, harder. His skin was rough under Xander's fingers. He wore glasses that were pressing against Xander's cheeks and, jeez, did Xander know anyone else who wore glasses? How did Xander miss the memo that glasses were so hot?

When they pulled apart, it was with one breathless chuckle (Rupert) and one slightly-pathetic whimper (Xander).

"So," Xander said awkwardly. "How do you like... California?"

Rupert's eyes danced in a way that made Xander feel completely naked. "From what I've seen, it's utterly beautiful."

Xander blushed.  _Beautiful?_  Rupert was one to talk. 

"I must admit, I was wary about moving to the United States, but if the first few hours are anything to go by, I don't think I'll mind it quite so much at all."

"Ah, yes. That's why the California Department of Tourism keeps me on retainer. I camp out in the airports luring strange British men to set up shop in our sunny, funny state."

Rupert leaned in for another brief brush of lips. "It's quite a lucrative business, I'm sure."

"The lucrative-est." Xander tried to chase his mouth, and Rupert let him.

They stayed like that for several minutes, necking in front of the huge windows as the sky outside began to clear. It was surprisingly easy to shift gears from _kissing a man, oh my god, I'm kissing a man_ to become _Rupert tastes so amazing, is that an English thing?_ and then,  _I'd love to get my hands on his English thing_.

Xander surprised himself by being the one to pull away.

Alex's time was almost up. Uncle Rory's flight had long since been redirected, and any minute now the roads would be clear.

"Let me drive you home," Xander said, ignoring how breathless he sounded. "Way I see it, you're missing a driver, and I'm missing a passenger."

"I'd quite like that," he said. Rupert smiled softly in a way that could have broken Xander's heart.

Xander closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Remember, all those years ago, when I said I don't usually let strange men buy me drinks?"

Rupert blinked, probably confused that Xander was coming over all serious-man out of nowhere. Xander tried to focus on anything beyond the very warm hand that had come to rest on his hip. "I guess I more kind of meant, I _never_ let strange men buy me drinks." Rupert frowned slightly, not quite getting it. "I mean, _ever_. As in, you're the first strange man that's ever bought me a drink."

That sexy sparkle had entirely disappeared from Rupert's eyes.

Why was Xander doing this? He could drive Rupert home, follow him inside. Spend all night trying to catalog what that mouth tasted like. What his skin tasted like...

But, no. Xander wasn't Alex. That's why he was doing this. He was a crappy person for stringing him along for a few hours, but Rupert was a grown-up, and he'd get over it quickly.

It'd be far worse if they took this further. If Xander let them... and if it ever came out that they did, and that Xander wasn't 18 yet... It'd destroy Rupert's life.

"I'll take you home, but that's all. This has been... amazing. Really, this ranks top on my stuck-in-an-airport experiences. Maybe top on my entire-life experiences. But I'm just not..." He pleaded with his eyes to Rupert, hoping he'd understand. Hoping he wouldn't make him finish the sentence, 'who you think I am.'

"You're not out," Rupert finished for him, instead. He sounded disappointed, but understanding.

Again, it wasn't a lie, but not the whole truth. It was a lifeline and Xander took it. "I'm sorry. Let me drive you home?"

Rupert considered Xander's face for several moments, and Xander didn't even realize he was holding his breath until Rupert nodded and he could breathe again. He grabbed the larger of Rupert's bags, hoisting it over his shoulder and leading the way to the where his father's car was waiting.

...

Sunnydale's airport was a simple, 2-gate affair, and it only took 10 minutes to walk from one end to the other. Even an awkward silence can't stretch it out much longer, and before Xander knew it, they were standing at the door that led from the terminal to the parking garage. Xander stopped in his tracks.

"Wait, don't you need to call your driver and let them know you're getting a lift?"

Rupert sheepishly looked away. "I, er, may have already used the payphone earlier. When you were in the lavatory."

Xander grinned, despite himself. "You were banking on me taking you home, huh?"

Rupert was blushing. God, he was handsome. "I didn't... that is, I wouldn't... I just, I didn't want him to come any earlier than he had to. I was having a nice time."

"Me, too."

They smiled at each other for a few moments before Rupert looked away. Spell broken. 

Rupert gestured to the garage, and Xander tried to take a step forward. He really did. But there was an invisible barrier there, and on the other side was the real world. And until he crossed it, he was Alex. Rupert's Alex.

Maybe he could stay here. Set up a tent by Gate A, live off of the french fries at Sunny Diner. Sure, he'd have to put up with Wendy, but Rupert could visit him here. They could kiss in every ugly green chair, and Rupert could bend him over the ticketing counter.

Rupert was looking at Xander and he seemed tired. Like he'd been traveling for the past several days, probably. Or like he just opened himself up to a guy who was leaving him high and dry like a two-dollar whore.

"Hey, Rupert?"

"Hm?"

"Do you mind, just, coming over here for a second?" He gestured to the invisible barrier, watching for Rupert's feet to cross from the concrete of the parking garage to the ugly linoleum of the airport.

Rupert came, and tolerantly stayed put when Xander reached out. The sexy teasing was gone, but he did muster a brief smile. 

"Would it be okay if I—"

He didn't have to finish his sentence, because Rupert covered his mouth with his own.

It was different this time. Less hopeful, less sweet. Instead of lingering warmth dissolving through Xander's body, this was scalding lava setting every nerve ending ablaze. This was the-ship's-going-down, final-moments, everything-to-lose. Xander gave as good as he got, knowing that he wasn't going to have another kiss like this in a long, long time. Not as long as he was in high school. Maybe not as long as he was in Sunnydale. But until he walked out that door, he could have it.

His teeth nearly gnashed against Rupert's as their tongues fought for dominance. Xander's hands grabbed everything—Rupert's shirt, his arms, his hair, his ass. As if he could memorize every surface. And Rupert was doing the same, tracing fire into Xander's skin.

Xander was all but humping Rupert's leg when a car door slammed in the distance. Like a trigger, Xander leapt away, looking frantically toward the sound. For a nonsensical moment, he was certain that his father had somehow... But no, it was Wendy, the waitress from the diner. Her shift must have ended, or else she had also been waiting for the storm to end, and she was applying lipstick in her rear-view mirror, completely disinterested in Rupert and Xander.

It didn't matter. The moment was over. When Xander had jumped, it had pushed him into the garage. He stared at his feet, then up at Rupert, who seemed to understand. He picked up his bag, and walked passed Xander to the only other car parked on the level.

It was a twenty-minute drive to the address Rupert gave, and they made it there in complete silence.


	2. Have You Met The New Librarian?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first day of sophomore year, and the events of this summer are not as far away as Xander thought.

The bell chipperly announced the end of first period and ten minutes to get to the next class. Enough time for the nerd-types to go to their lockers for books, the Cordelia-types to obsess over their hair, and for Xander, Willow, and Jesse to catch up on all the hot news of the first hour of school.

"Have you guys met the new librarian?" Willow asked, closely hugging all of her new textbooks.

"We have a library?"

"Xander!"

"What's a library again?" Jesse joined in. "Is that the one with the bleachers and basketball hoops?"

Willow rolled her eyes, "Fewer gym shorts, more books. Same musky smell, though."

"And, I presume, aforementioned new librarian?" Xander prompted, offering Willow her lifeline. Gossip was always Willow's weakness, no doubt twice-over when it was nerdy book gossip. At the very least, he owed her this, not yet willing to share his own, earth-shattering gossip from the summer. 

It had one week since Xander had shoved his tongue down the throat of a stranger at the Sunnydale Airport, and had his whole world completely turned on its axis. And yes, that was definitely the kind of thing you wanted to share with your best friend. Especially one like Willow, who had always been supportive-gal for Xander, no matter what stupid things he got up to.

(Like when Xander thought he could pull off a mullet in fifth grade, or when he'd put together a six-point plan to steal the elephants from the Sunnydale Zoo. Neither worked out, but not for a lack of support from Willow.)

It wasn't that he felt Willow would judge him about the guy-on-guy thing. She wasn't like that. But, there was the other part to the story—the part where Xander had pretended to be someone he wasn't; led Rupert on by lying to him in a way that could have gotten the guy into huge trouble. And, yeah, she might be a little concerned to hear that a forty-something year old had felt him up, no matter how consensual it was.

But, jeez, did he wish he had someone to talk to about that. It felt like he spent every waking moment thinking about Rupert's hands, Rupert's lips. Nearly everything set him off. Even this morning in class, when Mrs. Wilson said that the first test was going to be "hard," Xander spent the next ten minutes willing away an erection thinking about something else that had been "hard" against Xander's body as they'd kissed goodbye.

Xander needed to find a girl soon. An age-appropriate, boob-having, bouncy-haired girl to focus his attentions on. Someone he could talk about to his friends. 

Until then, if he couldn't share his own tasty gossip—then at least he could indulge Willow's. Even if it was just about libraries.

"Yes! He seems super smart. He brought all these new books from this museum he used to curate."

"Why Willow," Jesse mock-gasped, "is this a crush I detect?"

"Well, he is handsome. And he's got this whole absent-minded professor oofiness to him. Plus, accent, which is always swoon-worthy."

Xander caught himself choking on his own stomach, which had somehow lodged itself in his throat. "Accent?"

Jesse and Willow stopped walking to look at him. Oh, wait, they stopped because Xander stopped.

"You okay, dude?"

Willow came over to him and put a hand on his arm. "Xander?"

Accent. Well, there were plenty of accents, right? People from Texas had accents. And people from Mexico. And Brooklyn. Heck, everywhere had accents. No reason to assume...

"What kind of accent?" That was a normal question to ask, right?

"Um, British-y. Why?"

Was it getting cold in here? It felt cold in here. Like somebody had swapped all of Xander's blood for ice water.

There must be thousands of British people coming to America every day. To California, even. Probably hundreds in Sunnydale alone.

Oh, who was he kidding? Sunnydale was the size of a shoebox. He knew everyone at Sunnydale High by name. And their parents, and their extended families. The odds of two oofy, absent-minded professory-type British guys coming to Sunnydale for a change of careers was... Well, it was less likely than hell itself opening up beneath Xander and swallowing him whole. Which, he wouldn't really mind right now.

"I'm fine," he said, realizing he'd been catching flies in the middle of the hallway for the better half of a minute. He gave Willow a reassuring smile and miracled up a rational response. "Just a traumatic flashback to the 4-hour Revolutionary War documentary you made us watch last year."

Jesse groaned. "God, I had almost completely repressed that memory. Thanks a lot, Xan." Willow tried to defend herself and her questionable movie night choices, but Xander had tuned them both out.

Okay. So. Xander's super-hot moment of insanity had followed him home and was now working in his high school.

No big deal.

All he had to do was avoid the library for the next three years.

...

Xander liked to believe that, eventually, he'd have realized all by himself what a stupid plan that was. It simply hadn't occurred to him at the time that librarians, on occasion, leave the library.

It took exactly half an hour of "Plan: Avoid The Library" for everything to fall apart.

He'd been on his way to the restroom (nothing to do with Xander's over-active libido plus the new awareness that Rupert was now _in the same building_ as Xander), when he caught an unmistakable figure further down the hallway. He ducked behind a group of lockers and peeked his head out.

Rupert was far more dressed than he had been in the airport. It looked like he was wearing a tweed three-piece suit that completely failed to show off his body. But Xander had felt that body and knew what was underneath.

His nose was buried in a book, finger against his lips as he concentrated. He was librarian-extra. No wonder Willow was crushing. Xander wondered, if he had met this version of Rupert, would he still have been so attracted? No, not Rupert. Mr. Giles. The school librarian's name was Mr. Giles.

So focused on his reading, Rupert walked right into a water fountain. And then apologized absent-mindedly to it.

Xander bit back a laugh and ducked back behind the locker. God, Rupert was _cute_.

Cute and wandering the halls of Xander's high school.

Xander considered the feasibility of hiding behind lockers for the next three years. Then, he remembered the way Rupert looked at him when he was Alex. The bravery he felt when he moved to kiss him. How much he'd wanted to be the cool, confident guy that Rupert thought he was.

So with resolve, and aware that he was already skipping class on the first day of school, Xander changed direction and went to follow Rupert into the library.

Rupert was sitting in the office, still immersed in his book. Xander cleared his throat three times to get him to look up.

His heart missed several beats as Rupert's face shifted from confusion, to surprise, to pleasure. "Alex? What are you..."

"Mr. Giles," Xander interrupted, before Rupert said anything they'd both regret. "Welcome to Sunnydale High. I'm Xander Harris, and I need to pick up my text books. For my classes."

"Xand—classes?" Rupert frowned and Xander waited for the other shoe to drop.

And waited.

And then it dropped, along with Rupert's jaw and the floor of Xander's stomach.

"Oh, good lord. Good _lord!_ You said—a student. You're— _good lord_."

He was out of his chair and pacing back and forth, trying, it seemed, to get as far away from Xander as possible, but coming back every time to 'good lord' at him.

"Got it. Lord's good. Do you mind standing still for a second? I'm getting a little motion sick."

Rupert glared at him, and it was not a sexy or flirty glare. It was an angry, you-stupid-child glare. It made Xander feel small and awful. Familiar territory. 

"Look," Xander said, a little harsher, to break through all the whirlwind that must have been going through Rupert's head. "I can guess what you're thinking right now."

"Oh, I highly doubt that," Mr. Giles growled without a trace of humor.

The doors swung open. Xander and Mr. Giles stared at the freshman girl who came in.

"Um, European history?"

Mr. Giles continued to stare, as if she had spoken a different language. Eventually, as Xander watched the cogs slowly turning in his mind, he replied softly. "Mezzanine, second stack to your left."

"Thanks."

She went, leaving the two of them to look anywhere but at one another. Except, Xander couldn't actually look away, because this was Rupert. And he was here, in Xander's world.

Xander realized Mr. Giles wasn't going to yell at him while the girl was in the library, so he took his opportunity. "I'm really sorry that I..." he chose his words carefully and spoke with meaning, "waited this long to pick up my reading. Like, really, _really_ sorry. Feeling-like-the-scum-of-the-earth sorry."

Mr. Giles still seemed reticent to reply, still looking anywhere but at Xander, so he forged on.

"I swear, it was something I'd never normally do. Forgetting my reading, I mean. But, I, um, met someone this summer, and when we were together... I was so interested in having fun with them that I just wanted to forget that I go to school at all."

Mr. Giles was looking at him now at least, albeit through narrowed, angry eyes. "But you do go to school. And just because you want to forget doesn't mean it isn't true. Your actions could have..."

"Consequences? I get that. Have I said the 'I'm sorry' thing? The thing is... while I get that you're angry, and I _totally_ get why you're angry, this is a very small town. And I don't need people knowing that I... don't like reading. My parents, for example, and my friends."

Mr. Giles' face softened slightly at that. Not with forgiveness, but with the slightest hint of understanding and kindness that reminded Xander of the Rupert he met last week. "I have no intention of reporting your indiscretions." 

Xander breathed, a weight of relief lifting at the words. "Thanks. That's good to know. I mean, I guess you don't exactly want anyone knowing that you—" the freshman passed between them, bringing her books to the front. Mr. Giles followed her to the counter to check her out. "That you had a student who doesn't like reading."

Giles' eyes snapped up at that, and he nearly dropped the book scanner. "I did not _have_ —"

"Poor choice of words, sorry." Xander waited for the girl to hurry up and leave the library.

"Don't you have to get to class, Alex?"

"Xander," Xander corrected. "People call me Xander. And, no, I'm going to stay here for a minute."

The girl looked between Xander and Mr. Giles, as if finally realizing that she was in the middle of something she shouldn't be. Mr. Giles stamped her catalog card and sent her along with an absent "have a good day."

When she was gone, he went back to glaring at Xander. At least he'd stopped the growling and pacing. Small blessings.

"You're a good librarian," Xander said, pathetically.

"Yes, thank you. I'd like to stay a librarian as well. I'm sure you realize what could happen if we had, if I had—"

"Why do you think I ended things the way I did? Did I know you were going to be the librarian at my high school? Of course not. I never had any intention of you seeing me like this."

"Like what?"

"Like a high school sophomore in school." Xander smiled, awkwardly, testing the waters, "Who hasn't even picked up my reading for the year."

Mr. Giles rolled his eyes. It was a moment's gesture, but with it Xander could physically  _feel_ himself relegated in Mr. Giles' esteem to an exacerbating, foolish youth. He felt "Alex" die, somewhere in his gut.

Mr. Giles spoke, "You were serious about that? I thought that was part of the euphemism."

"I guess you're starting to learn that I'm clearly not Mr. Future-Thinking." Xander gave a weak smile, trying to ignore the way his chest hurt. "I meant what I said, though. I know I let things go too far, but you didn't do anything that could get you into real trouble. Well, technically, you did buy alcohol for a minor, but—"

"Xander..."

Xander deflated. "You know, I fantasized a lot these past few weeks about hearing you say my real name, but I had never hoped it'd be so..."

"Exasperated?"

"I was definitely hoping for something a bit more euphoric, yeah," he admitted.

"Christ." Rupert stared at him. "Dare I ask how old you actually are?"

"About halfway to 17."

"Christ."

"So you've said."

Mr. Giles sank into one of the chairs at the long table. "I knew you were younger, but I never imagined. Maybe 23 at a lowest ballpark."

Xander shrugged. "I get that a lot. I was an early bloomer."

"I've never felt quite so old."

 _I don't think of you as old_ , Xander thought about replying. "I'm sorry," he said instead, with all the feeling he could muster.  _I'm sorry for lying to you. I'm sorry for leading you on. I'm sorry I was stupid and could have gotten you in trouble._

_I'm sorry I'm not the guy you thought I was._

The class bell rang, filling the sad, quiet library. Xander would have to sneak back to class to get his stuff, and the hallway outside was already getting louder. Other students would be coming in soon.

"I'm not going to tell anyone. And I'm not going to bother you. Somewhere out there, there's a guy named Alex, who, for one night, had a big crush on a guy named Rupert. But  now, there's just a guy named Xander who's picking up his textbooks from a librarian named Giles. And then, foregoing any book-related catastrophes, these two guys probably won't see much of each other at all for the rest of the year."

For a moment, it seemed that Giles was searching for something in Xander's face. Maybe it was a hint of the charismatic "man" he met at the airport. Whatever it was, Giles eventually nodded and came over to him, reaching out his hand. Xander took it and shook.

Giles laughed and shook his head, the tension in the air... well, not quite dissolving, but getting a little lighter. "I meant, hand me your course list. I'll fetch the books you need."

Xander looked down where their hands grasped each other. He felt himself blushing, but Giles didn't seem to be mocking him. Just laughing. So Xander laughed too and released Giles' hand. He grabbed the schedule from his pocket and tried not to think too hard about how that hand had felt last week, running itself along Xander's body.

After Xander had all of his books, he gave Giles one last smile. "And with that, my once-yearly visit to the library is complete. I shall see you, Mr. Giles, in exactly one year and no sooner."

Giles chanced a small smile back. "I'll see you in one year, Xander."

...

Xander made it halfway to class before realizing Giles forgot to grab his algebra book.

He turned around to see the new girl, Buffy Summers, walking into the library. New students take forever to get set up in the system— Xander could probably sneak in and grab his book without Mr. Giles ever noticing.


	3. It Doesn't Go Away

"You ever think it's kind of strange?" Xander asked.

He and Giles were alone in the library, paging through book after book in search of the purple-y, slimy demon they'd seen last night on patrol. Xander was still on his first codex, while Giles was quickly thumbing through his third like it was a magazine.

"Hm?" Giles didn't even look up from his reading.

This was their dynamic now. Giles' primary focus was always on Buffy, his Slayer. Willow and Xander were tolerated so long as they could help in the fight.

Well, that's not fair. Giles seemed actually fond of Willow. (Who wouldn't be, though? Willow was great, and Xander was honestly thrilled that Giles seemed to recognize that, too.) But when it came to Xander, Giles' three settings were "apathetic," "frustrated," and, on very rare occasions, "amused-against-my-better-judgment."

If it weren't for that last one, Xander would never have believed that this was the same man who had flirted with him over whiskey one year ago. If it weren't for those unguarded moments, right after Xander would make a joke, or do something particularly crazy-but-brave, those moments where Giles smiled and met Xander's eyes and the world _clicked_ for just a second before his face froze over and he looked away; if it weren't for those moments, Xander would have forgotten last summer like a dream.

Instead, those moments clung to Xander like the sweet smell of a bakery. Drove him a little crazy, starved him for more. Kept him striving: to be the version of himself that Giles once liked, the guy that made Giles blush and smile candidly.

Obviously, they never spoke about it. But that didn't mean Xander didn't think about it nearly every time he saw Giles' eyes crinkle, lips twitch.

He hadn't intended to insert himself into Giles' life. He really hadn't. He had completely intended to steer clear, but he also hadn't intended to learn about vampires and slayers and demons, oh my. And once he had learned about that, about the dangers that lurked behind every corner, there was nowhere else he could be but on the front lines. There was nowhere else he could be. Not after what happened to Jesse.

Of course, it had been awkward at first. They'd sit together in those early days, the four of them discussing monsters, researching, planning, and Xander would try to participate as well as he could while making every effort to avoid Giles' eyes. Once or twice he'd failed, caught Giles looking his way, brow furrowed like he was confused by Xander's existence. Probably trying to figure out how he ever could have mistaken Xander for a worthwhile human. 

When he'd catch those glances, Xander would tighten his lips in a forced grin and shrug with no little self deprecation.  _You and me both, buddy_. And Giles would frown a little before looking away. And that'd be that. 

For weeks, Xander hadn't even let himself be alone in the same room as Giles.

(Not that he'd worried that Giles would do anything inappropriate. No, Giles had been perfectly clear that he had no intentions in that regard. He had just been terrified that Giles would try to  _talk_ to Xander. To remind him how immature it had been to pretend to be someone else that day, to lead on a grown man like that. Or worse, that he'd tell Xander to stop coming to the library: that he had no place in Giles' life and that he should leave the vampire hunting to the big boys.) 

But, eventually there had come a night, just over one month since the Harvest had brought them all together, when Buffy was out patrolling, Willow had a tutoring gig, and Giles was working on one of his all-night Master research-a-thons. Xander could help with the research, and he had to acknowledge that saving the world was more important than avoiding an awkward conversation.

That night Xander showed up at the library after classes, braced for whatever Giles had to say. Ready to respond in kind, that Xander might not be super-strong, or super-smart, but he could help with this. With the research. And that if Giles had a problem with that, just because Xander had been weak enough  _once_ to fall for a super smart, super cute guy last summer, then he could stuff it.

And he got as far as, "I'm here to help you research—" before Giles had just nodded distractedly and said "Of course, have a seat" and handed him a book. And that was that. 

No lecture. No disapproving looks. Not even a wary sigh. "Of course." Because there was a big bad, and Xander was now one of the guys who fought big bads. Simple as that. _Of course._

So here he was, day after day. Side-by-side with Giles, Buffy, and Willow in the fight against evil. And it might have been like the airport had never happened. 

Then, suddenly, somehow, it was summer again. They'd made it through the school year relatively unscathed. Buffy died, but Xander fixed it and they defeated the Master. 

Xander naively expected to see less of Giles during the summer, considering no school meant no school library. He had big plans to spend this summer Getting Over It. Spend some time on the beach, meeting age-appropriate  _girls_ who could distract him and chase Giles from his night-time fantasies.

Yet, something about mice and men, and when was Xander going to learn to stop making plans, because Buffy had gone to LA to stay with her father for the summer. Which left Willow and Xander to fill her shoes, patrolling with Giles and trying their collective best not to get maimed, skewered, bitten, or otherwise ended.

(Fortunately, the Master's defeat seemed to scare away most of the undead crowd, leaving them with a fairly manageable workload. Mostly stuff that Giles, with his advanced weapons training, might have been able to handle on his own. Not that Xander or Willow would ever have left him out there on his own.)

And, good God, did Giles look sexy with a crossbow on his arm. Or an axe over his shoulder. Or pulling a sword from the purple slime monster last night.

The way he'd wiped the blade with his soiled sleeve. The way he'd looked up, hair out of place and still catching his breath, and caught Xander's eyes with a slightly wild grin. Dark eyes, knowing Xander had been watching him. Knowing exactly how he looked. 

So, not much with the Getting Over It.

And maybe it was the adrenaline from the fight. Maybe it was the way Giles had grabbed Xander's arm when they'd first observed the demon in the alleyway. Or maybe it was the way the summer air felt around them: smelling the way it had smelled a year ago, in the airport parking garage, reminding Xander that school was out and that, right now, Xander wasn't a student and Giles wasn't his librarian. Or maybe it was a year's worth of frustration from being within arm's reach and unable to touch. 

Whatever it was, Xander had felt overcome. In one second, he would have stepped closer, whispered  _Giles_ and pressed him against the nearest surface. And the way Giles was looking back—unguarded, pleased,  _hungry—_ made Xander think that he might have let him.

With an incredibly unsexy  _pfft_ , the demon's corpse had disintegrated between them, leaving behind a purple, florescent goo. And instead of having his way with Giles, Xander collapsed into a coughing fit. The smell of the demon-goo infiltrated his lungs, as if sulfur and burning rubber had a baby and let it die in a dumpster.

Giles had covered his face with a handkerchief and led Xander from the alley, doubled over from the stink.

Once they'd made it to a safe distance, the moment had passed. That little-bit-of-crazy in Giles' eyes was gone, and Xander knew better than to try anything with sane Giles. Sane Giles, who had sighed, removed his glasses, and suggested that they return to the library to check if this demon was a one-off or a portent of things to come.

And that brought them to now. Together in the library, looking for purple slime demons, with Giles frustratingly oblivious to or purposefully ignoring Xander's insistent arousal.

"It's just kind of strange, is all," Xander said. "The way we decide what's right and wrong. Appropriate and inappropriate."

Giles did look up from his reading then, to shoot him an apprehensive look. Xander just shrugged, long since deterred by Giles' looks.

"Take Buffy, for example. A girl who puts her life on the line every night. Who was called at the age of 15, when she wasn't even old enough to drive a car."

"Yes, well. The origins of the Slayer well pre-date..."

"Sure, sure. But, it's still strange. That someone that young can be trusted with stuff this important, but it'd be 'inappropriate' for her to date someone older."

Giles narrowed his eyes at Xander, a clear warning. Xander's stomach flipped at how Giles didn't bother to pretend not to know what Xander was talking about. A silent acknowledgement of the moment from earlier that night, proof that Xander wasn't crazy. 

But Xander was a little crazy, because he didn't much feel like heeding Giles' warnings. The air still smelled like the summer _._  

"Except, I guess she was kinda dating that one guy. That centuries-old vampire guy. I guess that's probably inappropriate, right?"

"Xander."

"I guess the rules are kind of different for her. Since she's saved the world and all that."

" _Xander_." A glare that could murder mountains.

He couldn't help himself. It had been a year. A  _year_. And every time there was a moment like they'd had tonight, every time Giles watched Xander from the corner of his eyes, every time Giles seemed to over-correct himself in Xander's presence—every time Xander had told himself that he was imagining things, that Giles had forgotten and he was letting feelings linger that Giles had let dry up a year ago. Each single one of those moments was bursting at Xander's very soul and Giles never even seemed bothered, and it wasn't _fair_.

"You know, I actually helped her save the world, that time," he said, unable to stop himself from pushing. "I mean, I ran head-first into the belly of the beast and saved her life. Do you think that means the rules are kind of different for me, too?"

Giles continued to stare, and Xander stared right back. Challenging. Resolute.

Eventually, Giles cracked. With a weary sigh, sagging shoulders, and, below a whisper, "Please. Don't _._ "

"Don't, because you don't think of me that way? Or because you shouldn't?"

"Does it matter?" He didn't say it, but it was an admission all the same. Xander wasn't alone in this.

Honestly, he wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.

He clenched his jaw and looked back to his reading.

"I guess the rules aren't different for all of us."

"I guess not," Giles said, kind enough to sound a little apologetic about it.


End file.
